Rogue
by howlingmoonrise
Summary: AU where Matt is in an accident, preventing him from joining the Garrison in time. To keep his dream going, Katie pretends to be her brother while he recovers - and gets drawn into a lot of trouble. Pidge-centric.
1. Chapter 1

**For some reason I looked at the lack of Pidge-centric fic and decided it was a good idea to write one. A _multichapter_ one. Me. The person who doesn't finish anything.**

 **Someone stop me before it's too late.**

 **Female pronouns for Katie/Pidge. Rating might change.**

* * *

It's a happy day - or, at least, it's supposed to be.

Matt's smiling at her from his seat, waving and nearly sending his drink to the ground in the process, and Katie nearly bumps into an old lady in her rush to join him and their family. Clearly, they're a very graceful pair, but it doesn't matter: on the other side of the road there is Matt and he's back from his road trip and there's only so long Katie has with him before his applications for the Galaxy Garrison are sent off.

"Matt!"

He's taller than she remembers - more tanned, too, with freckles peppering the bridge of his nose in a way that makes Katie jealous that she only burns in the sun. His limbs are longer, lanky in a way that tells her he hasn't quite gotten used to them yet, and it makes her worry.

"Katie!" He grins and twirls them around, nearly crashing a couple of chairs to the floor in the process. "Please tell me you left your room at least once this summer."

"I'm outside now, aren't I?" Katie can only hold her snooty look for a few seconds before grinning back. "I missed you, you nerd."

"You, young lady," he says as he pokes her nose like they're children again. "Have no right to call me nerd. You _nerd_."

She had missed him, she thinks, very much so. The house doesn't feel quite as full, quite as loud, quite as great as it had been when he had been there, and she'd taken to hiding in her room even more often than before in an attempt to escape the emptiness.

But she doesn't say all that. "If you ever stay out for this long again," she threatens instead. "I'm turning your room into my personal computer lab."

Matt fakes a gasp. "You wouldn't dare."

They both know he'll be away for longer than that. They both know that once his application is accepted and he passes the physical exams, the Garrison will keep him away for far too long.

But Katie doesn't want to break her brother's good humour. Instead, she laughs and grins wider and says, "try me."

* * *

It's a special occasion, and on special occasions the Holt family generally eats out. Only, it's Matt's homecoming that they're celebrating, and according to him even Mom's terrible home-cooked casserole is better than what four teenage boys can come up with in a van without any sort of cooking utensils. So Mom puts her apron on - the one they'd gifted her as a gag gift, patterned with goggly-eyed aliens making space puns - and kicks them out of the kitchen before they turn the casserole from _terrible_ to _radioactive_.

A genius family they might be, but never let it be said that any of them were ever any good at cooking - or, at least, at cooking anything that doesn't have half a pack of sugar dumped into it.

Katie helps her brother carry his things back into his room. She's gotten stronger, though both of them still have some training to do - the Garrison doesn't make a distinction between genders when it comes to physical requirements, and though she still has some time before it's her turn to go, she wants to be ready.

She needs to know she won't get left behind when the time comes.

Matt huffs out a breath, collapsing into his bed. It's remained untouched since he left, gathering dust; the Holt household in general isn't too gifted when it comes to domestic duties.

Matt doesn't seem to care.

"I really did miss you, you know," she remarks fondly. "The house isn't the same without you here."

"I missed you too." He smiles, and then his expression becomes teasing. "It got too quiet on the van without the constant sounds of your robots exploding."

She laughs. "Do you want to go eat cake and ruin dinner like we used to?"

Ultimately, it's her fault, Katie thinks. The question turns to goading to see which one can reach the bakery first, which turns to a race which her brother cheats to win, and he's crossing the street and looking back at her to tease her - probably about her short legs, probably about how even though he's been skipping his training he's still faster than her - and neither of them see the car coming.

The driver doesn't see them, either - or, if they do, they don't stop in time.

Matt is sent flying.

And Katie can only watch.

She watches as the driver comes out, cellphone in hand. She watches as onlookers gather along the sides of the road, as Mom and Dad come rushing out of the house without knowing that the person who was hit in front of their house is their son. She watches as the ambulance rushes in, as the paramedics check for vitals, as they raise him into the vehicle - and she's only distantly aware of the denial falling from her lips, of the chorus of _no, no, no_ and _don't take him away_ spilling out with tears and desperation - and as Mom leads her to the car, as Dad climbs in with Matt in the ambulance.

The world only seems to rush back into focus with the words _he's alive_.

"He's going to be okay," Dad says, but the look on his face is grim. "But he'll have to take it easy for a few months."

There's broken bones and a concussion involved, but Matt is going to be okay. Matt is going to be alright, and healthy, and back to teasing and grinning and nagging as soon as he wakes up.

"Wait," Katie says, stricken. "You said a few months."

Dad nods.

Realization grips at her, tugs at the knots in her stomach until she feels like she's going to throw up. "But then," she says, slowly. Katie tests the words in her mouth, not willing to say them just yet. "The Garrison-"

"Oh," gasps Mom, and Katie knows that she's realized it, too. "Oh, no."

Since they were little, both Katie and Matt's dream had been to become part of the Garrison. To follow in their father's footsteps in researchers and explorers of the galaxy, to go where the naked eye couldn't see at night, to be lost amidst stars and planets and _space_.

But this is the last year Matt can apply to the Garrison - and if he can't do the physical exams, if he isn't there to be tested in...

"He won't be able to join," Dad concludes with a pained expression. "They don't make exceptions when it comes to admissions."

Katie curls her fist. "That's not fair."

 _It's my fault_.

Mom shakes her head, but she looks resigned. "There's nothing we can do about it, Katie."

"There _has_ to be something," Katie spits out. "Mom, Dad, you told us to never give up. _Ever_."

"Katie," Dad says, and he is too gentle. "This is beyond us."

And then - and _then_ \- Matt wakes up.

* * *

Katie waits until Mom and Dad are out of the room, off to buy snacks and water from the vending machines on the floor below. They've told her not to tell him - not yet, not while he's like this - but not to would feel like a lie.

Katie doesn't lie to her brother.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, and watches as tears fall in the thin hospital sheets. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, Katie," Matt croaks out, but he's crying, too. "I waited too long to join, anyway. This is on me."

"It's _not_ ," Katie snaps, and she's entirely too frustrated with the world, too frustrated with herself and with her parents and with the Garrison. "It's _not_ on you, and it's _not_ okay. How can you just go along with it?"

Matt laughs, but it's pained. "Tell me when you figure out a way to heal myself completely before the exams."

There are little half-moons carved into her palms from digging her nails in. "There has to be something we can do."

"There's not," Matt says. "Leave it."

 _Leave me_ , he means, but he's too kind to say it to her. Katie understands, though. She understands her brother better than anyone else.

Matt turns on his side, and Katie pretends she can't hear him cry as she shuts the door with a _click_.

* * *

There _is_ something she can do.

Katie comes to this conclusion in the middle of the night, when the rest of the household is asleep. Matt has been back for a few days, but he's not himself - he's lost his dream, and has become too quiet, too withdrawn, too stoic. The only one who can force a smile out of him is Mom, who has taken to baking their favourite peanut butter cookies every day in an attempt at comfort.

Katie hasn't tasted a single one.

If she had, she's certain they would have tasted like ashes.

Ultimately, the person who had inspired her had been Grandma, who had swept into the house with her skirts and short white hair and an utter disdain for nonsense. She had forced the Holt household to sit down and have a proper dinner, properly cooked and not takeout, and before leaving she had had a talk with Matt that had him pretending to smile a little more often.

And then, to Katie, she had said this: _you look just like him_.

Katie looks in the mirror, where the recently cut tips of her hair are already starting to curl inward. And, as she puts her brother's glasses on, she has to agree.

Under the fluorescent lights of the bathroom, she looks just like Matt.

* * *

"Katie," Mom says slowly. "What on earth have you done to your hair?"

Matt is gaping and Dad is staring, and Katie feels a vindictive sense of satisfaction at catching them off guard like this.

"Dearest family" she announces, one hand on her hip as she uses the other to steal her brother's glasses. They fit well over her nose, but she adjusts them anyway because it's a habit Matt has never grown out of. "I have a plan."

And Katie grins.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I hope everyone knows I only have a very vague idea of where I'm going with this. What is even writing, amirite?**

 **Thank you very much to those who reviewed! It's you guys who keep me going :)**

* * *

"It might be a little too tight," Katie confesses, wiggling a finger under the fabric of the binder. "But then again, I'm not sure _how_ tight these things are supposed to be."

There's no response from the other side of the bathroom door.

"Matt?" she asks hesitantly. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

A sigh, and then a scrubbing noise, as if he has leaned his head against the door but it's too heavy for him to keep in place. "It's not about me," her brother says. "It's about you."

Katie crosses her arms, disturbed by the odd feeling of not having the usual fleshy padding of her breasts in place. She's never been exactly _flat_ \- but this is different, strange in what she's not quite sure if it's a good way.

"This is not about me," she says, though she actually isn't too sure. The idea had been hers, as well as the planning and the execution, and their lives have become a little too odd to be sure if Matt is really as fine with her plan as he seems to be. _It's not_ , she wants to repeat, just to reassure herself of it.

"It is," he insists. "Katie, you're going to the Garrison _alone_ , on a higher level of education than you're used to, and pretending to be someone else. Someone else of a different _gender_. Have you even thought of how you're going to share dorms and showers and-"

Katie hesitates. "I'm fine with it," she says after a moment. Her eyes don't leave the mirror. "Besides, it's only for a few months - then you're back in and I'll wait for next year to apply to the pilot course."

"Yeah," Matt repeats, almost too soft for her to hear. "Only for a few months."

She slips one of Matt's old shirts over her head; his current ones are too big on her short frame. She's hoping to also hit a growth spurt, but if it's coming then it's a bit late. There's a second pair of panties with a a roll of bulky cloth sewn in the front, a temporary measure until she finds a better alternative - an alternative that doesn't _chafe_.

She slides open the door. "It will be fine."

Matt looks her over - from the typical slouched posture to the short tousled hair and to the way his old cargo pants are stuffed to the brim with electronics.

If there's anyone who can pass as Matthew Holt, it's his sister.

"You know what?" he asks. "It might actually be."

* * *

"For the record," Dad says. "I really don't think this is a good idea. Are the two of you sure you want to go through with this?"

Katie offers him what she hopes is a fierce look. "You told us to never give up."

She pretends her heart doesn't sink when Matt doesn't agree with her right away. He's got a contemplative look on his face, one that has inhabited his expression far more often than she would like, and he takes a few seconds too long to reply.

"Matt?" she asks softly. "You know I'm doing this for you, right?"

It's his _dream_. It's _her_ dream. This is the only chance both of them have at that childish fantasy of stars and space and flight, and her words serve to remind him of that; whatever thoughts he might have been having are wiped off his face.

"Yeah," he says, with his practised light-hearted expression. "I know."

Katie takes a deep breath as she faces the gates that will lead her to the Galaxy Garrison - to their future. "Last chance to change your mind," she says, only half-joking.

 _His mind_ , she asks herself, _or yours?_

Matt grins from his place in the wheelchair. "Good luck."

Katie can only hope she won't ruin it for him.

* * *

There's some benefits to being born in a family of geniuses, Katie thinks, especially when you're one yourself. It's the only reason why her hands aren't trembling when she hands Matt the envelope even though anxiety is gripping her lungs hot and tight.

Matt's hands are, though, and Katie almost doesn't want to stay and find out what the letter reads.

There's a moment of sustained silence from the whole family - the air itself seemingly becoming heavier in sympathy with their thoughts - and then Matt's eyes are speeding through the words that will make or break his future.

"Katie," he says after a moment. "what the _shit_."

 _This is it_ , Katie thinks. _I've ruined it._ Because even if she's smart enough to get into the Garrison - or at least she deeply, _desperately_ hopes she is - she might have ruined everything by getting her cover blown. Because while there hadn't been any problems with her entering apart from a remark about her height - _our family has a lot of late bloomers_ , she had said in return with a sheepish kind of grin, and the receptionist had nodded her head in understanding - there's still a lot of factors that might have done her in. Had it been the way she walked, the way she talked? Or maybe the roll of cloth in her underwear had been too obvious, or-

Katie clenches her eyes shut, waiting for the worst.

"What the shit," Matt repeats, eyes wide. "You tested _above_ my level."

Oh. _Oh_. Her lungs feels like they're about to burst. "I- What?"

Dad clears his throat. "Well," he says, and Katie can tell he's not sure whether to laugh at the whole thing or scold Matt over his language. "Welcome to the Garrison, I guess."

* * *

She doesn't say goodbye to Matt at the gate. It's too risky to have them both together so close to the place she will impersonate him at, and none of the Holt family members want to take that chance, whether they approve of the plan or not.

Katie says her goodbyes to him at the house, wanting to hold him tight but unable to. He's got injuries to recover from, the same ones that prevent him from being in her place, and she doesn't want to make them worse.

There might or might not have been tears in her eyes, but she pretends it's because she hasn't quite gotten used to the glasses yet.

Mom helps her load the baggage out of the car. "Take luck," she says, and kisses her forehead. "I might not like this, but I'm proud of you, Katie."

"Matt," Katie croaks out. "My name is Matt."

"Of course," Mom says, and there are tears in her eyes too.

Dad is more solemn, more unsmiling. "You have to be careful in there," he says. "It won't be easy."

"Nothing worth doing ever is," she says, quoting back his own words. And then, "I'll try."

She manages one, two, three steps away before she's running back and hugging them both.

"Please," she whispers in their ears, fervent and desperate and begging. "Please, please, _please_ take care of him. I don't think even he knows how much this has affected him."

"We will, Katie," Dad says, and both of them pull her close. "We will."

When they leave, there's a bitter sort of taste in her mouth, and her throat is too swollen with words she never got to say. _I love you_ , and _I don't know what I'm doing_ , and _I have to do this even if I don't want to_. She swallows them down, and turns to the gleaming doors of the cadet dorms, the place where she'll pretend to be someone else for the length of several months. A hot curl of panic grips at her gut, but Katie forces herself to ignore it.

She has a part to play.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: This week has essentially killed me, so I don't even want to think about the rest of the semester. Here, have a thing.**

 **Reviews are what keep the story flowing. Thank you so much to those who left a kind word!**

* * *

When she slides open the door to her dorm room, her roommate is already there.

He's tall, taller than Matt and maybe even taller than Dad - and larger, too, with the kind of wide shoulders and built frame that neither of the Holt men had ever hoped to achieve. It's the kind of frame that can be intimidating, especially to someone of Katie's size - but then he smiles, crinkling the corners of his eyes, and she can tell it's sincere.

"Hi," he says, rubbing the back of his neck in a sheepish gesture. "Sorry about the mess. I wasn't expecting you just yet."

Katie eyes the half-unpacked boxes littering the room, and shrugs. "Doesn't bother me as long as there's room for my stuff. I'm Matt."

 _I'm Katie_ , she wants to say.

Her new roommate neatly sidesteps a box, extending a hand in her direction. "I'm Shiro," he says, smiling wide. "Pilot course."

His eyes look kind, Katie thinks.

Matt will like him, Katie thinks.

She shakes his hand.

* * *

"You seem to know your way around the building well enough for someone on their first day," a classmate says as he follows her into the auditorium. Katie hasn't bothered to learn his name yet, and isn't sure if she'll ever care enough to ever learn it.

 _Be nice_ , she scolds herself. _Matt is nice and he'll have to live with what you do while you're in here._

Katie bites back a sarcastic response and shrugs instead. "Dad used to bring us here when we were younger. It's been a while, though."

"Us?"

"My-" _Brother_ , she thinks. "Sister," she says. "She's aiming for the pilot course next year."

The guy whistles. "She cute?"

Katie turns a deadpan stare on him. "Not in the slightest."

He grins, raising his hands in mock defence. "Just kidding, dude," he says, with the kind of tone that says he isn't.

"Sure," she replies easily, though she doesn't believe a word of what he says. His grin is too wide, too leery, too confident in himself for her to trust it. "Fair warning though, she can probably sweep the floor with you."

And with that she sidesteps into the last empty seat of a nearby row, leaving the guy to find a free chair somewhere else. Somewhere that isn't at her side.

Katie makes a note not to talk with the guy again.

* * *

Katie knows and dislikes Commander Iverson ever since she was six years old and far more impressionable than she grew to be. Dad had been showing her and Matt his workplace - back when he shifted between military and civilian jobs as easily as breathing and wasn't tied to one place, and his aforementioned workplace was only a small cubicle stuffed to the brim with technology - when the older man had appeared barking orders and demanding to know what children were doing in Garrison property.

She hadn't regretted sticking her bright pink bubblegum to his uniform back then, and she certainly didn't regret it now. Especially since she had never been caught.

Still, even thought she hasn't seen the man in years, she can't help but sink a little in her seat as the man climbs up to the podium. She hates the man - that much is a given - but he's a passionate speech-yeller, even if not a gifted or eloquent one, and one of the things he says doesn't leave her mind for the years that follow.

"You're in the Garrison now," he shouts to the room full of cadets. "You can't be anything less than _great_."

When he's done he's red enough in the face that half of the staff looks concerned about his health, but Katie doesn't delight in his disgruntled look as one of the other ranking officers helps him down the stairs. She's replaying his words over and over, _you can't be anything less than great, you can't be anything less than great_ , and she makes a vow to take them to heart.

 _I won't be anything less than great_ , she promises herself. _And neither will Matt_.

Shiro finds his way to her side as they empty the room, greeting her with a kind smile she's quickly realizing is his default. "What did you think?" he asks.

Katie gives a half-shrug, stopping halfway when she realizes Matt would probably be a little more excited. It's too late to feign it now, though, so she awkwardly finishes the movement. "It was alright, I guess," she says. "He kind of sounded like he expected all of us to throw ourselves to the ground and pledge allegiance to him, though."

Shiro laughs. "Yeah, he's like that. Not the most pleasant man, but generally efficient."

She gives his a curious look. "You know him?"

"Yeah," Shiro says, smiling softly. "I've spent most of my time in Garrison schools before coming here, so I see him a lot. He's not so bad if you suck up to him enough."

"Oh," Katie says, and mulls this over. "I thought you were a new student like me."

"It's my second year here, actually." Shiro rubs the back of his neck. "But since I was in Garrison training before, I have some more experience than most other students."

"Do they take that in consideration when picking people for jobs?" Katie frowns. "That can be troublesome."

He laughs. "It shouldn't be a problem; there's only so many of us who'd rather continue down this path. Most go civilian or pick another branch of the military."

She lets out a relieved sigh.

"Anyway, want to come to lunch?" he asks brightly. "It's the first day so we get a free afternoon."

She hesitates. "I... guess?" It's not like she has a lot to do, and Matt needs friends when it's time for them to switch places again. It's not the time to go hole herself in her room while tinkering with her latest robotics experiment, however much she wants it to be.

"I'm meeting a friend of mine," Shiro explains as he leads them down the halls. "He's a few years below us so they haven't assigned him a role and a team yet, but he's the best flyer I've seen in a good while."

Katie hums. "My sister wants to be a pilot too," she says. "She's testing in next year."

She wants to take back the words the moment she says them, but Shiro catches on her odd tone of voice too fast.

"You must be proud of her," he says, grinning. "I have a little brother, too, but he's still way too young to even know what a pilot does."

She grabs onto his words as a way to redirect the conversation. "Will he go through the Garrison schools too?"

Shiro shrugs, opening the cafeteria doors for them to enter. "Not sure," he says. "Our family situation is a bit different from back then, so he might not. To be honest, I'd rather he didn't. There's never much freedom when it comes to military schools."

Katie thinks of the long list of minimum qualifications to even be able to take the tests, and can't help but agree.

She turns to ask Shiro something else - something about the classes, maybe, or what flying is like, or anything that drives the topic away from their families - but by the time she turns to him and opens her mouth he's already waving to someone else.

"There's Keith," he says conversationally. "He's not very talkative, so don't worry if he doesn't open up right away."

Katie is about to ask what he means by that, but she's interrupted by the arrival of another boy. This one is far shorter than Shiro is - though that doesn't really mean much - but he still towers a full head above her small frame. He's not in uniform, though it had been mandatory for the opening ceremony, so she quickly deduces he must have skipped it.

Then her eyes find his mullet, and she has to force herself to not comment on it.

"This is Keith," Shiro says, smiling down at both of them. "Keith, this is Matt. Earlier you said you were studying Comm, right?"

Katie forces out an awkward laugh. "Communications Specialist, that's me. Or will be. Probably. Maybe. Sometime in the future."

More like _not at all_ , if she has her way.

"Hi," Keith says. Katie waits a moment for him to say something further before she realizes that's it.

"...Hi," she says in return.

As if he can sense her discomfort, Shiro grips both of their shoulders and pushes them gently towards the quickly forming line. "Come on," he says. "I know for a fact that there's only enough good food for the first fifty people. After that, it's everyone for themselves."

* * *

Katie takes some comfort on the fact that her first day was fairly uneventful. Maybe, she hopes, it's a preview of the months to come. Maybe, she thinks, this whole thing won't be so hard. She's even made a friendly acquaintance in Shiro, who she's pretty sure will respect her privacy, so this might even work.

She tries really hard to convince herself of that when she sneaks out to phone Matt.

"Hey," she croaks out, staring at the _Katie_ that reads on the screen. "It's me."

"Katie?" comes his voice from the other end. "Oh, heavens. Katie! How did it go?"

She shifts against the door of the bathroom stall she's positioned herself on. "It wasn't... terrible, I guess. Your roommate is nice. I think you'll like him."

"I'm glad," Matt says, and the relief on his voice is palpable.

Katie tries to pretend her eyes aren't burning. "You're going to have a huge gay crush on him. I'll bet actual real money on that."

Her brother chokes on the other side of the phone. "You know I don't make that kind of bets."

"Because you know you always lose," she says, relying on years of familiar teasing to keep the conversation going. "The tall, caring type is what you always go for."

Matt huffs out a laugh, his exhale distorting the call.

"Hey, Matt," Katie starts, and then hesitates.

She had called him for reassurance. For affirmation that everything is fine, that she's doing the right thing, that he's always waiting for her and that nothing is ever going to change between them. She wants him to tell her that the Garrison should fear her instead of the opposite, that the raging moths beating their wings against her ribcage in panic are only the product of her mind.

But then Katie remembers how fragile Matt had looked after the accident, how he never jumped right in on the idea of her posing as him, and steels herself.

"Yeah?" Matt asks. His breathing is a little wheezy, and Katie thinks he might have overexerted himself and his broken ribs.

She can't confide in him. He's still not strong enough for that.

Katie forces herself to smile, to make it be heard on her tone. "Nothing," she says after a moment. "Just wanted to tell you I love you. Mom and Dad, too."

Matt laughs softly. "Yeah," he says, and his tone is bright. "We love you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: This is far later than I had planned to post this, but university has really been kicking my butt. 12-hour class days and four submissions per week will do that to you. I'll try to get the next one sooner, but no promises.**

 **Thank you very much to those who reviewed! You guys keep me motivated, so this one is for you. Enjoy!**

* * *

When someone pushes her shoulder in the morning, Katie has to take a moment not to yell at Matt for waking her up. Because as the memories rush back, she remembers it _can't_ have been Matt to wake her up, because Matt's not here, and she's pretending to be Matt, and-

Shiro.

"You slept through your alarm," he's saying as he shakes harder. "Inspection will be here soon."

" _Fuck,_ " she yells as she stumbles and falls, tangled in sheets. "Fuck!"

It's entirely her fault for taking so long to fall asleep - and she feels the effects of it entirely too well in the dizziness of her body and the sleepiness and salt that crusts her eyes half-shut. It's not a new thing, this happening, but she imagines she must have been more stressed and emotionally exhausted than she had thought.

"Language," her roommate chastises with a light tone, and to be honest Katie had forgotten he was even there. "If you want I can start waking you up as well?"

"That would be fucking _super_ ," Katie says as she rolls on the floor, trying to get rid of the sheets that appear to be trying to _eat her_. And though she really doesn't want to be getting all chummy with Matt's roommate because she'll be leaving soon enough, she can't help but send him a helpless look after the top of her head meets the bedframe a little too forcefully. "A little help here?"

Shiro huffs out a laugh. Then, his hands reach down - and really, it should be illegal to look this good from all angles she's seen him in so far - and picks her up. Sheets and all. Katie the Sheet Burrito blinks at him as he gently lays her back on her feet.

"Um," she says, still trying to figure out how to get her mouth to work. "Thanks."

He sends her an amused smile. "You've got five minutes before inspection. Make them count."

And Katie is back to cursing, wiggling in place as she untangles herself from the sheets that must surely be cursed. She's off to the bathroom with uniform in hand, binder well hidden beneath the pile of clothing, and by the time she comes back her bed is made.

She blinks at it.

A warm hand ruffles her hair, the same hair she has just spent way too much time trying to tame. "Don't get used to it."

Katie raises a hand to smooth her hair back, watching as Shiro goes to stand in position near the door, broad shoulders relaxed and hands behind his back. She has trouble reminding herself that she's not here to make friends.

* * *

Katie makes it her business to avoid Shiro like she avoids Mom after stealing too many peanut butter cookies from the baking tray.

It's not that she doesn't like him. In fact, he strikes her as the type she'd get along splendidly with, because as far as she's seen he's not too pushy and doesn't mind long silences as long as they're comfortable - and _that_ is why she absconds to the nearest bathroom on the way to class, waiting for him to pass by before she dares make her way to the classroom herself and not get stuck on a seat near him.

Friendly people are the worst. Friendly people are exactly the kind that would ruin this for Matt by getting close to her and discovering everything. It's already bad enough that he's her roommate.

Katie will make sure he doesn't get any closer. If she keeps quiet, if she doesn't draw attention to herself, if she surrounds herself with friendly acquaintances - not friends, never friends, not before Matt takes back his place - then surely, _surely_ this plan will go well.

Of course, that plan is shot to hell soon enough.

She's rolling her eyes at something obviously wrong that one of the other kids says - he might be on the same group as the guy that had been pestering her the day before, but she can't be sure - when attention gets drawn to her instead.

"Care to explain what was wrong with Mr Falk's answers, Mr Holt?" asks the teacher, a middle aged woman who looks like she can take on Commander Iverson with a hand tied behind her back. "Since you clearly seem to know better."

And _shit_ , this definitely hadn't been in the plan. She rises hesitantly in her seat, unwilling but forced to participate and draw attention to her less-than-nice reaction to the other boy's half-joking ignorance, and folds her hands behind her back.

"It was... Inaccurate." Katie hesitates. "Due to the vacuum present in outer space, there isn't really a possibility to have fire in space unless an oxidizer is involved. And since sound doesn't propagate-"

A few snickers sound out from those who know what's coming.

"-you can't really make things go 'boom'."

A few cackles sound out, and the ears of the boy in question - Falk, the teacher had said - turn a bright pink.

"Succinctly put, Mr Holt. You can sit back down."

Katie lowers herself back into the seat, her own ears burning. She hates, hates, _hates_ being put on the spot like that. And, if the glares being directed at her from the seats around the Falk boy are any indicators, she certainly wasn't going to make a lot of friends with this.

Katie only hopes she hasn't ruined things for Matt too much.

* * *

She knows that those hopes are dashed to hell when she gets paired up with one of those boys for combat class. Technically, it's 'self-defense' class, but they all know what they're here for. The Garrison is military, and anyone expecting less than that is in for a hard awakening.

"Name's Harrison," the boy spits out. "And I'm gonna wreck your shit."

Katie takes a combat stance, but she knows she's going to lose. Not because she can't take on the boy with her skill level, not because she can't stand to hit someone, but because of who she's pretending to be. Because right now, she's Matt - Matt, who hates fighting. Matt, who avoids physical activity like the plague. Matt, who she's been able to out-wrestle for years now.

That, and she has a little too much chest padding and a distinct lack of junk between her legs that Harrison might notice if he gets too close.

She fakes being in a lot more pain that she is when Harrison foregoes the rules and their instructor's indications and goes straight for the face.

Maybe, if she keeps her head low, she can avoid bringing Matt more trouble than she already has. Maybe, if she keeps trying, she'll actually start believing it.

* * *

Shiro sends her a concerned when she plops between him and Keith at dinner. She has _had_ it with unpleasant Garrison boys and dealing with them in general, so she figures that she should stick with the pleasant-ish ones for now, even against her better judgement. At least while she doesn't come up with a plan to deal with... everything, really.

First day of actual classes and she's already made her brother a handful of enemies.

Just peachy.

Her roommate must have found her scary, ask-no-questions face a bit dampened by the purple swelling, because what comes next out of his mouth is, indeed, precisely one of the very questions she had been hoping to avoid. "Is that a black eye on your face?"

"No," Katie snarks as she waves a bread roll in the air. "It's a hickey. On my _eye_."

Keith snorts, but Shiro only frowns harder. "How did that even happen?"

Katie chomps down viciously on her roll. "Combat class. Bit of a mishap."

He opens his mouth again.

Katie shots him a glare. "Don't. Ask."

She imagines Harrison's head in place of the roll the next time she goes to take a bite. Both Shiro and Keith must have decided that they value their lives too much to ask, because dinner is silent after that.

Katie tries not to be thankful, and pretends she doesn't notice when there's bruise ointment amidst her belongings the next morning.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: got a bit down with the lack of feedback on last chapter (especially in comparison to the amount of follows and favourites this fic has - seriously, nearly 40 follows for one review?), and real life didn't help. so this is hella late but yeah, hope you guys enjoy anyway**

* * *

There's always a moment, in the morning, when Katie goes to brush her hair and the brush keeps going, and going, and going, until she realizes there's nothing to brush there, and she's left staring at the empty space where her hair should be. She's heard of ghost limbs, heard of how people keep feeling them there long after they're gone, and can't help but think her hair is a bit like that.

Every time the brush goes too far, or she runs her fingers through her hair and runs out of it too soon, it feels like her foot missed a step on a staircase - the anxious, coiling feeling in her gut is the same.

She tries to stop touching her hair not long after.

For every habit she has that involves her hair, she switches it for one with her new glasses. The nervous twirling of a lock is replaced by taking the glasses out and cleaning them; every time she feels like tugging at her bangs, she accidentally dirties the lenses by trying to adjust the glasses closer to her nose.

This Matt Holt is full of odd habits, and she hopes - she wishes - that no one will get close enough to notice once they switch back.

And then, there's the bruises.

Harrison and Falk's other friends haven't relented with the bullying, though it's subtler after one of them receives a reprimand after one too many 'incidents' in combat class. They've caught on that she won't tell on them, though, so there isn't a break to be had. The Garrison is military - and so, even though at least one member of the staff must have caught on, they don't meddle as long as no one notices.

But Shiro does.

And Keith does, too.

She does her best to avoid them, but even she isn't as crafty as to completely manage to hide from her roommate and his shadow.

"Hey," Keith scowls at her after a failed sidestep attempt. "What the hell is your problem?"

She holds back a frustrated sigh. "I have no idea what you mean."

"Sure you don't." Keith rolls his eyes. "Listen, I have no problem with you avoiding me. But Shiro is your roommate and he worries."

"I'd rather he didn't," she says stiffly. She knew, she _knew_ he'd be one of those mother hen types. Good for Matt, but for her in this situation? Not so much.

"Tough," Keith says. His eyes narrow at her; she's quickly regretting not having expended more effort to avoid _him_. Note to self: even if someone seems the definition of antisocial, it doesn't mean they won't seek you out if annoyed enough.

She opts not to reply. His eyes narrow further.

"You know what?" he says after a moment. "Come with me."

He doesn't give her the chance to refuse.

Katie follows him.

* * *

"This is the training room," she says flatly, unimpressed.

"Well spotted." His tone is as dry as hers. "Put your bag down and get ready."

She allows the straps to slide off her shoulders before sending him a sceptical look. "Ready for wha-"

He punches her.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?" she shouts at him, sliding away from another one. "THAT FUCKING HURT!"

"It's _supposed_ to," he sneers back. "It's called 'fighting'."

"I _know_ what it's called!"

"Good! Then _do_ something about it."

She snarls. He bares his teeth back at hers, and she takes the chance to strike.

He's fast. He's really fast, and sure on his feet, and he hasn't been holding back for weeks on his training like she has. It's hard to land a hit on him even though she's almost as fast as he is, and Keith is not going easy on her.

She's almost glad for that.

Katie forces herself to quit the flurry of furious, clumsy punches she's fallen into; forces herself to cool her mind. Rational, precise. A girl of her size can't take someone stronger than she is without her brains working properly, and Keith might not be the definition of a powerhouse but he's still strong. She blocks another punch, jabs experimentally at his left side - quick, short, more of a distraction than anything in order to make him slow down while she thinks.

 _You know better than this, Katie_.

Keith is impulsive, brash. Keith doesn't use his feet.

It's easy enough to fall back on instinct - one, two, one, two, block, jab, sidestep, punch, one, two. Easy enough to let muscle memory take over, ignore the aches she'll be sure to feel in the morning. Easy enough to pretend that this is just another friendly fight in a controlled environment, with padded gloves covering her fists and dental protection in place.

Easy enough to forget that she's not supposed to be Katie, here.

She sidesteps, blocks, feints - and then sweeps his feet out from under him.

Keith hits the ground with a hard _thud_ , breath wheezing out in a way that she would have winced in sympathy at had he not punched her first. So she lets herself drop on him, legs straddled so he won't be able to get up again, and allows herself one more punch across his face, two, three, until she's sure he won't be fighting back.

"There," she says, snarling. A bit of spit - or maybe it's blood - works its way down the side of her lips, but she's beyond caring. "I've done something about it. Now leave me _alone_."

She doesn't move until he gives her a long, slow nod. It's only when she's removing herself from his prone form, tasting all the new aches across her limbs, that she realizes that she's supposed to be Matt.

Matt doesn't fight.

 _Fuck_.

Keith studies her for a long moment. "I don't understand why you don't deal with them if you're able to," he says, dark eyes contemplative for once. Katie is about to sneer at him, tell him to mind his own business before he ruins her life, but he cuts her off with a wince and a shrug. "But I guess that's your own business."

She can't believe he's letting her off this easily. "Seriously?"

He raises an eyebrow at her. "Why, do you want me to tell everyone you're perfectly able to hold your own?"

"Fuck off," she says, but it's lost some of it's bite. Then, hesitantly, "Guess I'll see you around. Mullet."

She's only all too satisfied to hear him splutter as she makes her way out of the room.

* * *

Shiro takes a long look at the two of them and the stiff way they're holding their positions on opposite ends of the couch.

"Seriously?" he asks. Then shakes his head. "You know what? I don't want to know."

"Whatever," Katie snaps. "Are we going to get this study session started or not? I was promised extra dessert."

Her roommate holds back a laugh; she catches his amusement anyway in the way his eyes crinkle and shine in presence of the overhead light. "Sure, sure," he says, and between Shiro's tone and Keith's reluctant presence it feels warm. Feels like the kind of friends she's avoiding because she'll miss them too much once she trades back with her brother. "It's nice to have you back, Matt."


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thank you so much for all the lovely reviews!**

 **To the reviewer Neophema (since you sent it in as a guest and so I wasn't sure if the account with that name was yours and didn't want to risk replying privately in case it wasn't you): I do plan on continuing the story after Matt recovers, yes! My 'plan' for the fic - a term which I use very loosely here because I'm very much a pantser and only have a few key scenes planned with the rest being me just winging it - more or less covers the events of the first season of the show, rewritten and changed to fit my needs and the future events of the fic. Not sure if it'll cover season 2 and any after that though, as you can see I'm not the fastest of writers and so the fic would drag on forever haha.**

 **I hope you guys enjoy the fic!**

* * *

"Katie," her brother chastises over the phone. "You haven't been calling as often."

"Sorry, sorry," she says to the bathroom wall in front of her. "It's been a busy week. We've been assigned a ton of work, and if I was by myself I could finish it fast - but I'm stuck with groupwork."

Katie allows a grimace to extend over her face, taking off the glasses in a moment of brief reprieve; they leave tiny red indents in their place. Groupwork is hell on Earth, of this she is sure. Might have been different if she was paired up with more competent people, but as it is she hasn't been very lucky in that department. Makes her wonder how some people got in the program in the first place.

Her brother huffs out a laugh. "I know you hate those."

"And I know _you_ love those," she says. "So I've been sucking it up, painful as it is. Why do you have to be such a social butterfly?"

"Pretty sure you're the only person who'd ever call me that." She can hear him smile over the phone. "Then again, you're a cave monster who only comes out when we pound down your door."

"Har-dee-har." Katie rolls her eyes. "I go out for food too. And bathroom breaks."

Matt laughs harder. "Not if we don't come to drag you out, you don't. Have you been eating well over there, at least? Four meals a day?"

Katie pulls a face. "Roommate dearest has non-officially taken the task of being the person to drag me out to eat, so yeah. And Keith always has snacks on his fanny packs. _Fanny packs_ , can you believe it? Plus the mullet. I'd say he lives on an 80's cartoon if I didn't know any better."

"Katie, be _nice._ "

She sighs, leaning back on the cool tiles. "I am being nice."

"You're only nice to robots," Matt says. He's only half-joking; this has been a point of contention between them for years now. Katie doesn't do _polite_ , nor gives respect to people she doesn't think haven't deserved it, no matter how much the Matt and Dad keep telling her to. In regards to this, she's taken after Mom - Mom always said that being born near the shore infused her veins with salt water and quick temper, and that Katie had inherited all those petty, nasty bits. This, of course, was said after both of them had been giving the stink-eye to a man who had cut the line in front of them at the supermarket, so Katie didn't take it to heart.

Shiro knocks on the bathroom door. "Matt? We're heading to the cafeteria, want to come?"

"Let me just finish this call," Katie calls out to him. Then, to Matt, "I've got to go. The meal boss is here."

Matt snorts. "Take care, little sister."

"You too," she says, and straightens her clothes before finishing the call.

Shiro is waiting outside by the time she opens the door, offering her a comprehending smile. "Family call?"

"Yep," she says, adjusting the glasses so they don't dig as deep into the bridge of her nose. "We're not very used to being apart. Grew up as tight as siblings can be, I guess."

 _And_ she's back to oversharing. If Shiro asks for family stories, what is she supposed to do? Tell them from Matt's point of view? This is why she should stay away from the fucking topic, and Katie gives herself a mental smackdown.

"I wish I could see my brother more," Shiro says, waving at Keith to join them. "I think the Garrison should allow more time for family, but they're giving us military training so it's not too surprising that they don't."

He quietens about the family theme when they reach Keith though. Katie wonders what the story on that is.

"Holt," Keith greets with a nod.

"Mullet," Katie greets back. Then she narrows her eyes. "You haven't been sneaking to the simulation room in the middle of the night, have you?"

Keith offers her a quick turn of his lips in answer, the kind that tells her he isn't sure if she's joking or if she's actually keeping tabs on it, and she coughs out a badly-disguised laugh in return.

"You're going to get caught one of these days," she teases. "And then what's your excuse going to be?"

"I'm sure I can come up with something," Keith says, arms crossed. "Best pilot prodigy after Shiro, remember?"

They both turn to tease Shiro on his recent moniker, who flushes lightly at the reminder of it. "Iverson was just trying to motivate the others, that's all." He rubs bashfully at the back of his neck, but neither Katie nor Keith buy it.

"Sure," Katie drawls. "Not like the scores speak for themselves or anything."

"Sorry, Shiro," Keith says, not looking sorry at all. In fact, he looks like he's hiding the beginnings of a rare smile, and Katie feels her spirits raise at the sight of it and the pinkness in her roommate's face. "As much as I hate to admit it, Holt has a point."

" _And_ I might or might not heard that you're being considered for one of those student missions at the end of the year," Katie adds. "Though it's still too soon to tell."

She looks away at the look they both send in her direction, the bashfulness only half-feigned.

"How do you know those things?" Shiro asks. "I never see you talk with anyone else but you come up with this all stuff anyway."

"Being tiny helps," she shrugs, pretending the tips of her ears aren't still burning at the attention. "Plus I have access to the robotics labs after class, so I get to hear some instructor gossip."

She doesn't say that she's not _supposed_ to be developing projects that her brother will have to catch up on when he comes back just in case anyone asks about them. But Katie has always been smart, always been fast, and there's only so much she can study ahead in class without raising unwanted attention to herself - or rather, to her brother. _This is for Matt,_ she has to constantly remind herself whenever she feels too happy about her progress in class, or every time she feels the tiny, sticky tendrils of friendship wrapping around her heart in a way that will be painful to deal with later when she'll have to pretend to have never met either of her new friends, or when she almost lets rage dictate her actions towards the bullies who keep insisting on being an inconvenience in her life. _This is for Matt_. _Don't get attached._

 _This is for Matt_ , she also reminds herself while staring in disgust at the goop of cafeteria food being plopped on her plate,and both Shiro and Keith laugh at her grimace.

 _Damned military brats._

* * *

Honestly, Katie's temper is running out. _Fast._ She stares at the wreck that used to be her robotics project, wires snapped with a little too much violence for it to even be able to pass as an accident. From the corner of her eye, she spots Harrington and his little friends snickering near the door, and clenches her fist hard enough that it turns bone-white.

 _Fuck_ , she thinks. _I definitely wasn't made for tolerating nasty little shits like them_. And it takes a lot of willpower, a _lot_ , not to go over there and punch at least a few of them in the throat. Because that's not what Matt would do. Because Matt Holt dislikes confrontation and actual physical violence, no matter how much Katie had snorted at him for it because _honestly Matt, the Garrison is military and you expect to escape all the fighting how?_ , and he'd never do it.

He'd never do it, she reminds herself, and forces her hands to unclench. _You're doing this for him. Never forget_. _This is for Matt._

* * *

Keith narrows his eyes at her, the combination of his dark circles and the shade of purple-blue of his irises making his face seem gaunter than usual. Katie wonders if he ever gets any sleep, not that she's one to talk. "You're up to something, Holt."

"You don't say," Katie drawls, hands flying over her keyboard. "Not like you're also sneaking out of your dorm at night, off to do something that isn't quite right according to Garrison rules."

"Does Shiro know you're out here?" Keith complains, pulling himself over the barrier. "How did you even sneak past him?"

"Does Shiro know _you're_ out here?" Katie levels him with a deadpan look. "He sleeps like the dead. I could be abducted by giant alien robots and returned on the same night while he slept and he'd never know."

Keith mutters something at her that she probably doesn't want nor care to hear, so she ignores him and adjusts the glasses closer to her face instead. Her eyesight is getting blurry after one too many sleepless nights dedicated to browsing memes and coding personal projects, though on a logical level she knows she should get some sleep. It's the line between _knowing_ she should do something and actually doing it that lies the problem, though.

Not like she had used that argument one too many times to excuse not doing chores or anything, hah. She holds back a snort.

"I wouldn't go that way, if I were you," she warns, just as Keith is about to move past the next barrier. He turns to give her an odd look, not looking convinced. "Trust me, they shifted patrol routes two days ago. I mean, you can still go if you want to, but don't say I didn't warn you."

He falters. "I- Thanks."

"Yeah, yeah," she mutters back, attention once again sucked into the LED screen of her laptop. A few more lines, a missing semicolon and- commit. Katie holds her breath.

"What do you even do in that laptop all the time, anyway?"

"Look for aliens," she says distractedly. "Program robots. Punish nasty little boys who-"

The page refreshes.

Her nose nearly touches the screen from how intently she's looking at it. And yes, _there_ it is, the spreadsheet neatly divided into rows and columns, with each row containing the grades so far for each student in the class. The total class average, however, is brought down spectacularly by several rows in particular - rows which she might or might not have altered herself not a minute ago.

Katie holds back a whoop of joy.

Keith is unamused. "Seriously, what the fuck are you doing over there?"

"I don't ask you where you go in the middle of the night," she says pointedly, closing her laptop shut with a satisfied smirk. "Even though I know where you go anyway, because you're about as subtle as a rocket."

Keith and his middle-of-the-night flights are the worst kept secret _ever_. Then again, Katie supposes she's closer to him than most people are, even though most of their interactions consist in traded greetings of 'Mullet' and 'Holt'. On his side, he looks like he's two seconds away from doing an imitation of the Classic Shiro Act of pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head at her in an exasperated manner.

"You know what?" he asks. "I don't even want to know. Night, Holt."

"Night, Mullet," she says back cheerily as he slips back to wherever he came from, placing her laptop under her arm. Not even 2AM. Must be some kind of record.

Walking back to the dorms is easy, made even easier by having memorized the patrol routes and times conveniently available online. If by 'conveniently' one meant 'behind several layers of high security', and by 'available' one meant 'with access permitted only to authorized staff', neither of which being things likely to stay in Katie's way for long.

Shiro hasn't moved when she slips back inside, quickly shedding her casual outfit back into her nightclothes. Maybe she should sew pockets in them to facilitate sneaking around without having to change back later, but it's too much trouble when she's not even here to stay.

 _A few more months_ , she thinks as she slides the laptop beneath her bed, connecting it to the charger.

 _A few more months_ , she repeats as she pulls the sheets over herself, shivering at their coldness.

 _A few more months_ , she dreams as she falls asleep to the soft sound of Shiro's breathing.

Only few more months, and then she'll be gone.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I can't begin to say how thankful I am for all the lovely feedback! And we've hit 90 alerts on FFN alone, which is all kinds of humbling. This chapter was a bit harder to write than the others, and I'm not completely satisfied with it, but I didn't want to leave you guys without an update for longer than I had to. Katie is a bit sleep-deprived on this one, something sadly enough that mirrors my daily existence.**

 **Keep the feedback coming guys, it got me writing more than any dose of free time would!**

 **I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"I don't think," Falk says as he leans over her with a sneer. "That you know your place."

Katie offers him a flat look. "Classes have assigned seating, so I'm pretty sure I do."

It's amusing, she contemplates, how quickly a human being can turn such a shade of tomato-red. Falk is certainly an example of it, though the colour in his face meshes unpleasantly with the bright orange of the uniform in a way that makes Katie vaguely wonder if he's related to Commander Iverson.

She's faintly aware that she's only making things worse for Matt in the future when the red-faced boy slams his palm inches away from her head, eyes filled with rage. This awareness does not do anything beyond making her think twice.

"Besides," she says, not without a hint of cheekiness. "My place is very good as it is, while I can't say the same for you. Taken a good look at your grades lately, Falk? You should probably work on those."

She takes his small moment of confusion to slip beneath his arm, too fast for him to catch on even if the quick moment makes her a bit lightheaded. Katie can't resist a smug pat on his back as she does, something that will probably come back to bite her in the ass at some point. _Katie,_ the mental version of her brother chides in the confines of her head, _no one likes smug assholes_.

Katie reasons with imaginary-Matt that Falk and his friends started it.

There's a cheerful whistle that accompanies her step as she ducks into the nearest bathroom, predicting that the angered boy will come stomping after her soon enough. What she hadn't said to his face was this: regardless of his grades, regardless of his standing, regardless of anything but an angry Katie Holt, anyone from Falk and Harrison's group that hadn't taken a look at the rankings spreadsheet after the wee hours of the morning was in for a bitter surprise.

Sometimes, Katie reasons, it feels damn good to be a petty piece of shit. Even if she'd much rather pummel her fist in the bastard's face instead.

* * *

"Matt," Shiro warns her.

"Shiro," she drawls back on the same tone he used. From his position on a chair nearby, Katie can see Keith trying to fight back a smirk, and she scowls as she turns her burning eyes back to the taller boy.

Shiro sighs, looking like he wants to drag his hand over his face. "What did you do?"

"I have no idea what you mean," Katie replies innocently. As innocently as she can, anyway, considering she's been fighting the urge to laugh hysterically all day. Dad had always said she wasn't the subtlest person around, and she supposes that hasn't changed even though her clothes and haircut and name all have. The sleeplessness certainly hasn't helped. "Is it because I left my hairbrush on the sink?"

Keith snorts at her blatant attempt at misdirection, looking far too amused at the whole thing. Asshole. Katie fights the urge to glare at him.

"I don't know," Shiro says back, and she's almost say he's _snarking_ if this wasn't, you know, _Shiro_. "Why don't you ask that one group of boys cursing you out?"

"Figured it out, have they?" she asks gleefully. "Oh man, the next few weeks are going to be hell but _so worth it_."

" _I have no idea what you mean_ ," Shiro mimics at her. His eyes are as wide as he can make them, and she suspects he'd be fluttering his eyelashes if he could get away with it. " _Is it because I left my hairbrush on the sink?_ "

When Katie attempts to speak, nothing comes out; she does her best impression of a gaping fish. On her third or fourth try, she squints suspiciously at him. "Did you just tell a _joke_?"

"How dare you." Shiro's face is perfectly impassive. "I thought you knew me better than this, Matt. I feel betrayed you thought I'd ever do such a thing."

Keith chokes on a laugh.

Katie shoves out a finger, not sure to which of them she should be pointing it at. "Listen up," she says indignantly. "I'm not saying anything because I'm still not sure if I hallucinated Shiro telling a joke or not, but I _will_ be getting to the bottom of this. Mark my words."

She convinces herself she does _not_ hear Shiro whisper the pun " _Matt my words_ " at her back when she leaves the room. Improbable. Impossible. The math doesn't add up.

The fact that Keith is laughing a little too loud for it not to be true throws her for a loop, though. Shiro joking. Shiro telling puns. None of that fits with the serious rule-abiding role model image she has of him, and Katie shakes her head.

She must be imagining things.

* * *

The binder is a pain to take off. Nearly as much of a pain as it is to put it on; the difference is that when taking it off there's a sensation of immediate relief that follows it. Katie lets her lungs expand freely for a few moments, looking in the mirror as she does, taking in the pale skin and the smudgy shadowed skin around her eyes.

She looks tired.

She's never been able to sleep too well out of her bed. To make such a sudden switch is exhausting, deepened by having to leave behind all things familiar. No clothes or photos or books, nothing that could give any clues about the real Matt and her family. The one concession she makes is her computer, and on those many sleepless nights she takes comfort in it. Code is one thing she knows how to do, and she slips into the rows upon rows of pixelated characters like coming home, until her fingers ache and her eyes burn and the sun is coming up outside the small window of their dorm

It's not healthy, and Shiro looks at her with more concern each day that passes, but she can't seem to stop doing it. It's getting hard to focus on her daily life, and it's not the first time her vision has become dizzy with lack of sleep.

It's something she gets from her family, she supposes. Focusing all the pain and anger and frustration into their work until something worthwhile comes out.

She slips on a sports bra underneath the regulation pajamas, wishing beyond hope for her comfortable alien-themed sweatpants and shirt instead. There's no familiarity to this cold fabric; it's made for practicality and nothing else. It's all she has, though. Maybe one of these days she could ask Keith to sneak in some stuff, since she sees him leave for midnight joyrides at least once a week and come back without being detected.

It wouldn't be worth it, she reminds herself. It would never be worth it.

There's three months, one week, and four days left until she gets to go home and trade back with Matt, and beneath the fluorescent white bathroom light, Katie feels lonelier than ever.

* * *

Keith's stare as he bites at a protein bar is intermittent and all sorts of annoying, and Katie scowls at it. They've ended up alone _again_ , forced to sit together by sheer dislike of everyone else who isn't Shiro, and normally Katie wouldn't mind it as much seeing as Keith generally understands that not every silence needs to be filled with words. Today, though, he is _staring_ , and his unrelenting gaze is getting on her nerves a little too much.

"What do you _want_ , Mullet?"

"Shiro is worried," he simply says. The _about you_ is implied, because Keith saves up on words when he can, and besides it's not like she hasn't noticed Shiro and his worrying and his frowning and his watching her like a mother hen.

Katie contains the urge to shove a finger at his face. "If he's so worried, he can come and tell me that himself."

Keith cracks a smile. "Shiro is a firm believer that people will come to him if necessary. He never stops the hovering until they do, though."

She can't really begrudge Shiro, Katie decides, no matter how irritable and sleep-deprived she might be at the moment. He's a hard guy to dislike. Like a particularly nice rock that doesn't disrupt the landscape and that you'll never stub your toe on, but that provides a nice place to nap on if the weather is nice enough.

It's at this moment Katie realizes she should probably get some sleep, rock-Shiro or no rock-Shiro.

"Besides," Keith says, taking another bite of his protein bar and gulping it down whole before he speaks. She can smell something nice coming from it, though she can't tell right away what it is; she narrows her eyes at the wrapper. "He's not one to talk. You should see him during the examination weeks: he pretty much monopolizes the Garrison's entire stock of coffee."

"Somehow, I really can't picture that," Katie mutters. The protein bar swings back and forth enticingly; what _is_ that smell? "He looks like the responsible kind of student."

Keith shrugs. "You'd be surprised. That responsible look of his and his grades are what keep him from ever getting in trouble."

 _It's peanut butter_ , Katie realizes. _It's a peanut butter protein bar_. "I can't picture Shiro in trouble," she replies distractedly. She loves peanut butter, and it's been _so long_.

"Who do you think taught me to sneak around?" Keith asks with a smirk. "But no one ever suspects him. It's amazing."

That's enough to distract her from the mouth-watering thought of peanut butter _anything_. "Wait. So you're saying the serious role model thing is a front?"

"I'm not _saying_ anything," Keith says, swallowing the last of the protein bar. "But if you need to get somewhere you shouldn't, well - it wouldn't hurt to ask Shiro. Wouldn't have gotten all those extra piloting hours if it weren't for him."

It's unlikely that Katie will need that kind of knowledge, but she stows it away for the future just in case. She's so busy with reconstructing her mental profile of Shiro that she barely notices when Keith offers her a peanut butter protein bar - fished out from his fanny pack of all things - and tells her to get some sleep.

* * *

She's groggy and disorientated when she wakes up, not recognizing her surroundings. There's a soft blue kind of light painting the walls between shadows, and she faintly remembers sitting on the recreation room with Shiro and Keith while pouring over a book on Star class cargo ship manutention. Between the low murmurs of conversation and the background explosions on the movie showing on the projector screen, she must have fallen asleep.

Someone has removed her glasses and put them at her side so they wouldn't hurt, and she slips them back on before anyone can see her. It's ridiculous how quickly Matt's glasses have become the closest thing to a security blanket she has.

"Oh," Shiro says, from the couch, his voice nice and warm. "You're awake."

"You fell asleep," Keith says, as helpful as always. His eyes don't even leave the movie; she can't even recognize the characters in it. She wonders for how long she had slept.

"You're as obvious as ever, Mullet," Katie mutters, but she's still too out of it to pack any real bite behind her words. "How long was I out for?"

"A few hours," Keith says.

"Should have been longer," Shiro adds. "You certainly looked like you needed it. Sorry, did we wake you up?"

She rubs her eyes, smudging her glasses with her carelessness. "I don't think so? Can't really tell what woke me up."

"It's still early, but you could head on to bed," Shiro suggests. "I don't think you're going to get any studying done like that."

Katie flops down on her side, looking blearily at the movie on the screen. "Won't be able to sleep. What are we watching?"

"Old movie," Keith says, which explains why the projection is so flat. "Didn't start too long ago. But it's weird as hell."

"You should be able to catch on pretty quick," Shiro says.

"Or not," Keith snorts. "It doesn't exactly make much sense."

"It's a _metaphor._ "

The amicable bickering is nice. It reminds her of home, of Mom and Dad, of her and Matt, and the nonsensical conversations that often plagued the dinner table.

It's familiar enough that Katie falls back asleep. She's too tired to enjoy the first good rest she's had for the past few weeks, but it's good. It's nice. It's slow going, but she's starting to think she would like it here, given the chance.

Katie dreams of home.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: It's been far longer than I was expecting since the last update. I started this chapter as soon as I finished the last, but meanwhile Real Life(TM) hasn't been giving me a lot of time to breathe and so I only managed to finish it now. It ended up speeding up events that were going to happen later and delaying others that were supposed to happen on this chapter, and I feel that my frustration kind of leaked through in certain parts. Here's to hoping you guys enjoy it though, and thank you so much for the reviews! They're really what keep me going, and I can't thank you guys enough for them.**

* * *

Katie muffles a groan into her pillow, mentally cursing Keith and his stupid cursed peanut butter energy bar. Not only is it keeping her awake at night, but her stomach is cramping from it, hard enough that she's curled in a painfully tight ball beneath the military-issued sheets, hoping beyond hope that Shiro doesn't wake up to witness her like this.

And it's when she gives up on sleep once more and reaches for the bag to find some pills to ease the pain that she's struck with a chilly realization. Katie hopes she's wrong. Katie _desperately_ hopes she's wrong as she makes the mental math and reaches for an entirely different section of her bag, into the part that holds folded socks and underwear and all kinds of stuff packed _within_ the undergarments, and rushes for the bathroom as silently as she can, blanket trailing behind her like a cloak.

Oh, boy.

She grimaces towards the brightly lit ceiling, eyes bleary against the fluorescent light. There's no mistaking it. Both underwear and sleep pants have a spot soaked through with red, big enough that she knows the sheets will mirror it.

Katie has just started her period, and her role as Matt has just become one step harder.

* * *

Usually, mornings go like this: both Katie and Shiro wake up, take turns in the bathroom, and then pair up to make the beds military-style. Each takes two corners of the blankets and sheets for each bed and pull in quick movements, stretching them flat and creaseless back down in the mattress, ready for inspection.

Today, this is not the case.

Katie has smuggled the sheets back and forth between the room and the bathroom, wondering at how her roommate can sleep so deeply. Then she remembers how Matt is much the same, falling asleep in the single moment it takes him to turn on his back and not waking up until Gunther - and _oh_ , how she misses that dog - goes to lick at his face with the slobberiest of kisses.

Must be nice to sleep so deeply, Katie always thinks - usually with a small undertone of bitterness as she rubs at weary eyes - but today, it works in her favour. The blood takes time to wash off, using both running water and spit and scrubbing until she's pretty sure her fingers are going to bleed and ruin all her work, and even then there's still a darker kind of stain in the midst of the wet sheet. She's not the religious type, but she thanks the heavens for the warmth of desert mornings as she lays the sheets back down and makes the bed while covering up the stain to the best of her ability. This time, with no friendly roommate to help.

Shiro furrows his brow at her bed when he wakes up. His hair is sticking out towards the left side of his head, probably due to his sleeping position, but she doesn't feel like laughing at him today. "You made the bed already?"

She shrugs as nonchalantly as she can manage. "Woke up with a stomach ache. I thought it'd be best to go ahead and do it in case it got worse later."

"That's fair," Shiro says, but Katie can tell he's still processing it. His hand reaches up to rub at his eyes sleepily. "Have you taken something for it?"

"Yeah," Katie says, smiling at him like nothing's wrong. "Don't worry about it."

* * *

As it turns out, there's plenty of things that are wrong. She manages to miss breakfast even though she's been awake since the early hours of the morning, discovers that she somehow disconnected her computer's charger during the night, loses the report she'd been working on for the past few days, and then nearly locks herself in the bathroom when she tries to sneakily check on her downstairs situation.

Katie nearly gives up and stays in the bathroom even after the latch unlocks.

 _It's not going to be a pleasant day_ , she grimly thinks. _I can already tell_.

The pulsing, red-hot pain on her abdominal area doesn't help, either. She's short with anyone who directs her more than a few words, the words sharpened by pain and an even more severe lack of tolerance than usual. Even Shiro isn't spared, but she tried to justify to herself that he's been hovering - hovering and staring worriedly and hovering some more ever since he woke up, and honestly enough, Katie can't wait until class so she doesn't have to deal with it. He's only dared ask if she's alright a couple of times before retreating into his hovering-mode, not saying a word - thankfully so - but also not letting up on his concern.

 _It's just a stomach ache_ , she's repeated more than once. _A good night's sleep and I'll be fine_.

And yeah, okay, she's kind of _touched_ that there's someone that worries this much about her - about _Matt,_ she has to keep reminding herself - when they barely know each other, but Katie is a private kind of person. She doesn't _do_ hovering, and if Matt or Mom or Dad had ever attempted it she'd already have barked at them to leave her alone. Holts don't do _hovering_. Holts do quiet.

Quiet. She needs peace, and quiet - _and maybe a hot water bottle and a couple more pain pills_ \- and her computer, and she'll be fine.

She'll be fine.

Harrison doesn't seem to agree, ripping her advanced physics textbook from her hands when she's contemplating the best way to get back to the dorms without anymore hovering from the part of her roommate.

"Heard you've caused some more trouble, Mattie-boy," he says almost amiably. "Why don't we fix that?"

And heavens, she knows what is coming, she _knows_ , but she doesn't find the strength in herself to avoid the punch to the gut she receives. And she also knows that it only makes her mad, the pain on the pain on the pain that is already there, pulsing and quiet-like until it rears its head in powerful surges, but Katie has always been good at pushing back the pain in favour of her anger.

She lets herself forget Matt for one moment, and her fist flies - square in the throat, leaving Harrison gasping and heaving out bile and saliva on the floor, but she isn't done. "I'm tired of you," she spits out, fingers tingling with adrenaline and fury, urging her to punch some more. "I'm done."

"You're done?" Harrison gasps out. "Like fuck you are."

She can't help the sneer that paints her face. "Yeah?"

Katie lets him get up. Lets him get on one knee, and then the other, knowing that she put him there, that she can do it again. Lets him rise up to his full height, towering above her small frame, hand still grasped tight to the place where she punched him. Her limbs feel light, loosening into proper placement for a fight out of instinct and years of practice.

"Try that again, you bitch," he says. "And you'll-"

She never learns what exactly she'll _do_ \- at least not according to him - because she delivers a swift knee to his stomach before he can finish that sentence. "I'll what?" she challenges. "Get a fucking grip, man. I didn't do anything to you, and I'm tired of putting up with your shit. So either grow an actual backbone or _leave me the fuck alone._ "

"Holt?" It's Keith's voice coming from somewhere down the corridor, and she can feel him frowning even if she isn't looking at him right now. Her eyes never leave her opponent, steady like she hasn't felt since she's started wearing her brother's skin.

Harrison's hand darts out to grasp her arm, gripping so tightly her skin feels burned. "You-"

" _Shut up_ ," she hisses at him, not caring if spittle flies out, not caring if Keith sees this side of her pretence, of this charade she has been putting up with for too long. "Shut up. You come at me again, and I won't hesitate. Leave. Me. _Alone_."

Matt wouldn't fight. Matt wouldn't have gotten into this situation in the first place, too friendly and too good to even roll his eyes at the stupid answer that started all this.

Katie knows that she isn't Matt, and the knowledge of it weights heavy and bitter in her stomach as she turns away, tearing her arm from Harrison's grasp.

She's suddenly conscious of how this changes things for Matt, how she either fixed a bad situation or ruined it further, but right now she doesn't want to let her mind drown itself in these thoughts. Katie shoves them down, a practised kind of mental motion, letting herself feel only the pain in her knuckles, the pain in her stomach, the pain in her heart.

Katie walks past Keith, not sparing him a glance. "You coming or what?"

It's not a question. She doesn't want an answer.

Keith seems to understand, because he does not reply. His footsteps join hers.

* * *

She dry-swallows the pain pills, feeling the silence of the room stretch itself to a level that is almost uncomfortable. They're not friends, Keith and her. They get along because they're extensions of Shiro - she, his roommate; he, his... childhood friend? Surrogate brother? Katie realizes she's never bothered to ask, and they've never bothered to tell her. It makes guilt curl up further in her stomach, next to the place she's reserved for all guilt relating to Matt. The strands of guilt coil together, snakes on snakes of feelings and thoughts, making her stomach roll with nausea until she can't even bear the thought of food even though she hasn't had a bite to eat since lunch.

As if reading her thoughts, Keith offers her another peanut butter bar. Katie shakes her head at it.

"I'm not hungry," she says, but it comes out more like an angry whisper, like her throat is too dry for the intensity of her voice. "I'm not hungry," she repeats, more steadily.

Keith shrugs. "Suit yourself, Holt," he says, opening the protein bar for himself. He pauses to take a bite, chewing thoughtfully before saying, "Glad you fixed that up, though."

"Cheering for me in the sidelines, were you?" she asks flatly.

He shrugs again, not looking too bothered by her stingy look. "I don't really care."

She knows what he's implying. They've talked about this, before. When there was also blood on the ground and pain on her fists. "As long as Shiro's kept out of it?"

"As long as Shiro's kept out of it," Keith agrees.

Katie sighs. "Yeah," she says, the remnants of her anger draining out of her. All that remains is exhaustion, the kind that even rest won't cure. "I know what you mean."

She also has someone she wants to keep out of trouble, to keep protected.

She can't help but regret that she's the one causing them all the trouble.

* * *

That night, Matt calls just as scheduled.

 _I'm not alright_ , she wants to say. _I'm ruining things for you_.

 _There's people here I'd like to be friends with_ , she wants to say _. But I can't, because they're supposed to be your friends instead._

 _There's so many things I want to do and say,_ she wants to say. _But I can't, because I'm supposed to be you._

 _I want to go home_ , she wants to say. _And be Katie again._

 _I want to stay_ , she wants to say. _But not as Matt_.

Her finger hovers over the _End Call_ button. There is a fragile sigh, soft like she doesn't dare let too much weight on it, and the fluorescent light shining on the military-issued mirror only makes her feel more detached. Like she's the same Katie from weeks ago, standing in front of her own bathroom's mirror with scissors in hand and snakes of guilt eating at her insides.

It's tempting, not to answer. To give herself time to compartmentalize her thoughts and feelings, to fix herself in a single, determinate track she won't allow herself to deviate from. To not let bitterness cloud the thoughts of her brother when she talks to him, to not let so many words linger rotting and unspoken on her tongue.

Katie answers the call.


End file.
